


Oh, I Forgot To Mention

by TChallaGotBac



Series: stan the hot dog man verse [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Sassy Peter Parker, Stan Lee Cameo, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24203842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TChallaGotBac/pseuds/TChallaGotBac
Summary: Peter gets kidnapped, but it's a little more realistic than others i've read (meaning he escapes very easily). Also he is very sassy.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: stan the hot dog man verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760905
Comments: 25
Kudos: 413
Collections: ellie marvel fics - read





	Oh, I Forgot To Mention

**Author's Note:**

> just a little note: i have zero knowledge about NYC, so i kinda just made some stuff up. Ik it’s probably wildly inaccurate but I live in a small town 2,910 miles away so i don’t have much to go off of. and i'm really bad at researching stuff so don't @ me.  
> I absolutely loved writing this fic, and it's probably the most i've ever revised any piece of writing ever. I loved writing sassy peter!!!!  
> Anyway i hope you enjoy!

**go check out** **@hotdamnsebstan on insta, I got inspo from[this](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_ynsABlMje/?igshid=vkuyzvcdcj1a) edit**

Peter sensed it coming, he realized later- but he was still learning to interpret his senses, so he thought it was just a pigeon taking off behind him, like last time. He didn’t want to overreact again, because he’d already gotten enough heat for the  _ I SAW SPIDER-MAN MURDER AN INNOCENT PIGEON- NOT CLICKBAIT!! _ video on YouTube.

Turns out, it was a bat this time instead of a pigeon, and made of metal, and about to hit him. By the time he realized the danger laid in more than just poop on his shoulder, it was too late; the bat had smashed into the back of his skull and his eyes were rolling back in his head.

The last thought he had was that he was going to be late to meet Mr. Stark.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by two men glaring down at him, close enough that he could feel their breath. At the first sign that he’d returned to consciousness, the larger of the men straightened and sneered. His large stature and less-than-average looking face immediately earned him the nickname Big Ugly from Peter. Not his most creative of nicknames, he grimaced, but he had just gotten a metal bat to the back of the head. 

“See, I told you he’s all right, you idiot.” Big Ugly snarled. The other man, less ugly but more stupid looking, scowled. 

“Well, you hit him really hard,” he defended, barely ducking Big Ugly’s hand that was on its way to his nose. “Watch it!” He said angrily.

“I’m  _ this _ close to hitting  _ you  _ really hard, you big oaf!” 

While the men argued, Peter swept his eyes around the room, taking it in. It looked like it used to be a huge living room of some sort, but had gotten super old and derelict. Weak sunlight streamed in from clouded windows at least twenty feet above his head, broken ones letting in stronger beams that lit select patches on the dirty ground like a dusty spotlight. Badly patched areas of drywall told him there used to be several more windows lower on the walls. Old furniture had been shoved to one side- and recently, too, as he could see the spots where they used to sit creating squares in the dust that had settled over the years.

Finally, his eyes lighted on his backpack, dropped by the door. The contents were spilled out and he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d left his suit at home, planning to drop by the apartment before patrolling. From there, he saw his phone, and realized with a sinking feeling that it had been smashed. May was going to kill him when she found out.

Well, for May to do anything to him, he’d have to get out first, he thought. Which wouldn’t seem to be a problem at this point, the way they had him tied up. Duct tape trapped his feet to their respective chair legs, and that would hold him about as well as a glass cage held the Hulk. They’d wrapped his arms around the back and handcuffed his wrists to the opposite side. Luckily, the handcuffs would hold just about as well as the duct tape. The awkward position had caused his biceps to press against the chair back, restricting blood flow, and his arms had fallen asleep as a result. It wasn’t painful yet, but he knew it would be when he broke out. 

So, Peter reviewed, the bonds were breakable, the room escapable, and there were only two men, who didn’t seem to be the brightest choice for anything. All this to contain a kid who could stop a bus with his bare hands and walk away with hardly a scratch. It was pretty clear that the thugs thought they kidnapped an ordinary kid, instead of a superhero.

That was going to be a very useful little secret, he thought slyly.

Peter shook his head and brought himself back to reality with a bump. Big Ugly and Stupid were still arguing, he realized with a small start. They looked dangerously close to strangling each other. While that would certainly solve his problem, he couldn’t let that happen.

Peter cleared his throat meaningfully. Both men stopped arguing and looked at him in surprise, as if they’d forgotten he was there.

“Your guys’ breath stinks really bad,” he remarked, wrinkling his nose to add to the effect. “Have you heard of, like, brushing? It’s highly recommended to most people that eat food.” He shrugged at his kidnappers, who were looking at him as if they didn’t know what to say.

Big Ugly recovered first and started toward him menacingly. “Now you listen here, you little-”

Whatever highly intelligent threat Peter was sure the man was going to say was interrupted by a ringtone coming from Stupid’s pocket. 

“Oops! Saved by the bell,” Peter chirped, smiling broadly.

His kidnapper shoved a finger in his face. “You got lucky this time,” he growled. “That’ll be the boss. We’re figuring out how much to ask for you. Then, we’ll be rich men.”

“Ooh, sounds exciting. I hope you get a lot,” Peter grinned. The man made a move like he was going to strangle Peter, but Stupid called urgently. 

“Hey! We can’t keep the boss waiting!”

“Shoot! Looks like you gotta go.” The smile plastered on his face obviously infuriated the man, and he snarled. The kid seemed like he was having way too much fun with this. Which, he was, of course. 

“I’ll deal with you later,” he threatened.

“Looking forward to it!” Peter called at his retreating back. “Have fun negotiating the terms of my release!”

He chuckled to himself when he saw the man’s hands ball into fists at his apparent enjoyment of being kidnapped and threatened. As soon as they disappeared through the door, he shattered the handcuffs like glass. The duct tape took no effort to tear. 

Standing and groaning, he swung his arms to get the blood circulating, an excruciating experience. It took a hot minute for the painful tingling sensation to subside. After all normal feeling returned, he made his way to his backpack and started putting things back in. He noticed with surprise that the cash hadn’t gone missing from his wallet. Obviously his kidnappers thought they were about to be rich and didn’t need to bother with petty cash.

Peter pulled on his backpack and glanced down at his wrist. He had what looked like identical fitbits on each arm, but with a flick of the wrists, nanotech would crawl up his palm and reveal them to be his webshooters. Peter had designed them himself, and was reasonably proud of them. To help sell the disguise, they also displayed a watch face. 

He considered swinging out of the room, then dismissed the thought. Leaving spiderwebs in the wake of his escape would be too suspicious. Unfortunately, the watch feature was the only reason he’d be using his nano-shooters today. 

Checking his wrist again, he realized with a jolt that it’d only been an hour since he’d been walking home from school. Mr. Stark had told him to swing by the tower (pun intended) around 5, and it was 4:15, leaving forty-five minutes to get to the tower.

Cinching his backpack straps tight, he swarmed up the wall before delicately climbing through a broken window and emerging on the outside. Tree branches obscured most of his view of the ground below, so he had no idea how many people were around. Aware that someone casually dropping down from a second story height window would probably draw attention, he made the jump to the tree and climbed down.

When he landed, he could see nobody in sight. Surrounded by a neighborhood of very nice, expensive looking houses, the fact didn’t surprise him. Most people would still be at work, anyway. The only exception to the general pattern of nice houses was the old abandoned house he’d just escaped from. 

That’s strange, Peter thought, furrowing his brow. He’d gotten the peculiar feeling that the whole place looked familiar.

Suddenly, he remembered that the place  _ did _ look familiar, he was just looking at it from a different angle. And usually, he didn’t stop to look down on it, he would only run across the rooftops without giving the neighborhood a second thought.

And if he was  _ here _ , and he knew where here was, then in theory, he knew how to get home! With that assurance, Peter started for home. Swinging home sans suit was out of the question. But if he was able to climb a building via fire escape, he could run across the rooftops relatively unnoticed.

It wasn’t hard to find a dark alley once out of the neighborhood, and pretty soon he was flying over the rooftops of Queens. He didn’t run like this often, and he was surprised to find that he actually quite enjoyed it, though not nearly as much as swinging. Using the dark cover of an alley to discreetly swing down with a web or descending the fire escape, he’d cross the street to climb up and run across the next set of buildings. He made surprisingly good time with this system.

A stain of blue running down from a window marked the apartment complex next to his own, and he dropped down into the alley straight across from it. Some years ago, someone had accidentally knocked over a paint can resting next to the window, spilling it down the bricks and creating the illusion that the building was crying. This earned the building its nickname, “Teardrop Complex.” Also contributing to the nickname was the sorry state of the building, which was rumored to bring people to tears when they saw what they had to live in. Peter didn’t give it much thought as he jogged past to get home.

  
  


Several people looked up at the scarlet blur that was their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man as he zoomed past. He frequented this route often, but they hadn’t seen him in a couple days. Quite a few people had realized that he seemed to go to the same place every Friday at around the same time, so they weren’t exactly surprised to see him. This particular street corner had grown quite fond of him after he’d saved them several times from various destructive forces, specifically a couple store owners and the hot dog vendor who’d set up camp there. 

More often than not, he’d stop for a free hot dog and the stand vendor found that he was a very likable person. He’d saved his life once- pushed him out of the way of a car, earning him free hot dogs for life. Being the good person he was, he didn’t abuse that privilege and at the most would stop by three times a week, always greeting him with a “Hey, Stan! Any update on the new grandkid?” 

Usually, Stan would shake his head and assure the hero that his daughter remained pregnant, but now, he was rather hoping he’d stop by soon, because he was bursting with news and was sharing it with anyone who came into contact with him for more than twenty seconds.

But today, it seemed he was in a pretty good hurry, because he swung right past without stopping. Stan shrugged. He’s a busy man, he figured.

Tony was sitting on his computer, his back to the window, when he heard a knock on the glass, accompanied by a muffled “Hey, Mr. Stark!”

"Open the window, FRI," he commanded without turning around.

Tony reflected on how strange his life had become. I’m letting someone who calls himself Spider-Man in through my 60th story window, he thought. Then he shrugged mentally. Ever since aliens dropped out of the sky, his life hadn’t exactly been normal.

Peter grinned as he crawled in through the window and dropped to the floor. Most towers wouldn’t have windows that could open, especially this high up, but Tony found it terribly convenient considering his side job often required him to fly out of windows pretty often. And smashing through them was a pain because the first few times he did that, Stark Industries got quite a few complaints about glass raining down on people on the street below. Thus came openable windows.

“Kid, did you know that you change your voice when you become Spider-Man?” Tony spun his chair around to face the teen, who’d removed his mask and was looking confused at his question.

“I do?” Before he could answer, the kid jetted off another question. “How do you know? Oh, right. Baby Monitor. Wait, why are you looking at the videos? Are you spying on me?”

Many teachers before him had assumed the classic “I’ll wait” look, and unknowingly, Tony was mimicking them. 

“Are you done?”

Guiltily, Peter nodded. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I'm tracking this criminal- it's confidential S.H.I.E.L.D business, you aren't allowed to know," He said quickly, sensing another question arising in Peter's throat. Peter released a breath and nodded, a little miffed that Tony had beaten him to the punch. "Anyway, I programmed FRIDAY to inform me if there was any whiff of him. Since FRIDAY has access to the Baby Monitor-" Peter rolled his eyes- "she notified me that the guy you stopped in a mugging the other day matched his description.

“So, I looked through the footage. It wasn't my guy, but I did discover that you use a different voice when you’re acting as Spider-Man. Listen.” He played a clip of the video. Sure enough, Peter's voice seemed deeper, more commanding. It was a voice reminiscent of Superman.

Peter thought for a second. “Huh. I guess I do, unconsciously. Probably because I'm trying to sound more heroic.”

"You're trying, all right," Tony muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

His mentor shrugged. “Nothing. Anyway, gimme your mask. You’re here for me to update Karen. Want a churro? Bakery gave me an extra.”

Peter enthusiastically traded mask for churro and sat himself opposite to Tony. “What’re you—” he began to ask around a mouthful of churro, but was cut off by the phone ringing.

Tony answered it on speaker but before he could say anything a distorted voice said, “ _ I HAVE YOUR SON _ .”

He started in surprise, then looked up at Peter. Despite the fact that he wasn’t technically his son, he knew that the person was referring to him. And if Peter hadn’t been sitting right in front of him, the words would have put a twist of fear in his gut. But he was only confused.

“Um, my son?”

“ _ PETER PARKER. IF YOU WANT HIM BACK ALIVE, YOU’LL BRING _ —”

“Wait, wait. Pete is sitting right in front of me, eating a churro.” Tony made a confused face at Peter, who to his surprise, only grinned a little guiltily.

They all sat in confused silence for a second, then the kidnapper decided that Tony was bluffing. “ _ NICE TRY. PETER PARKER IS CURRENTLY TIED UP WITH NO WAY TO ESCAPE. NOW, IF YOU WANT YOUR SON BACK ALIVE _ —”

Tony took the phone off speaker and held it against his chest, muffling the strange voice. “Pete, were you kidnapped?”

The kid gave him a lopsided grin. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. But obviously I got out, so no harm, no foul, right? I mean, it wasn’t too hard, I just...”

Both kidnapper and kidnappee were still talking when Tony dropped his phone on the table and buried his face in his hands. Peter gladly took over the negotiations.

“How much did you want for me? Five- wow! Five million? I’m flattered, guys, I really am. But, seeing as you guys are terrible kidnappers because I obviously escaped, it looks like you won’t be getting your money, sorry. Have a good day!” 

Tony looked up at his kid, cheerfully hanging up on two criminals. 

“Did you just tell the men who kidnapped and demanded ransom for you to ‘have a good day?’” 

Peter nodded and finished off his churro. “I didn’t want to be  _ rude _ .”

“You didn’t want to… Oh, my goodness, Pete,” Tony said, burying his face in his hands again. “You’re going to be the death of me someday, you know that?”

“At least you’ll die happy,” Peter said dramatically.

Tony groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> did you get the easter egg i put in there? stan the hot dog vendor? Stan Lee cameo! This will also help connect this with the next fic I'm posting, so its (mostly) relevant, i promise, just not yet :)  
> If you want to contact me, send me prompts, ask me stuff, anything, you can comment, or my tumblr is milesmorales-is-my-son.  
> I hope you enjoyed!


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